For The Love Of A Good Warden
by Dimuerta
Summary: The Story of a Grey Warden and her companions' travels, adventures and most of all, romance.   Please note: Not completely tied down to the in-game storyline and written for those who haven't played the game as well as DA fans.
1. Chapter 1 A Hard Choice

1. A Hard Choice

She knew this was coming, it was inevitable, though she wished it would come a little later; she didn't feel entirely ready yet, and she liked to feel ready for any situation, on the battlefield and off.

It was dark now, and she was doing her usual rounds of the camp, making sure her companions were all as content as was possible in these circumstances. Zeus was happily gnawing on a veal bone that she'd given to him, after picking it up from a merchant in Denerim; Shale was playing splat-a-pigeon; and Morrigan was in the far corner of the camp, as always, comsumed in reading through her mother's real grimoire. '_I should probably go back and deal with Flemeth properly'_ she thought to herself as she watched Morrigan; she had left Flemeth alive when she went to retrieve the grimoire, knowing only too well that Flemeth was far more powerful than she and her party, and, wanting more than anything to protect her dear friends, she had made a deal with Flemeth, with every intention of going back on her word later, when they were better prepared. Presently, Sten was arguing with Wynne about the necessity of humans, and Oghren was sitting outside his tent, enjoying the ale in his Beard Flask. Zevran. She gazed at Zevran across the fire for a few moments longer than was strictly necessary; he felt her gaze upon him and gave her a knowing smile and a wink before returning to sharpening his Crow dagger. This dazzled her into immobility for a second before she reassembled herself to turn and look upon Alistair.

Alistair. How he knocked the wind out of her every time she saw him. It was that way ever since they had first met. Nothing had changed in that respect. He was fair haired, with a kind face; there were little lines on his forehead, left there from all the laughing in which he partook. He was broad shouldered and muscular; a result of being a warrior, and tall, or tall in her eyes; Elves were much smaller in stature than humans.

As she looked at him now though, she could see that he was troubled, deep in thought, he had a furrow in his brow and he was fiddling restlessly with one of his new Juggernaut gloves, which she had acquired for him. Alistair sat by the camp fire, away from his other companions. He was uneasy, almost impatient, she thought. _'Better just get it over with, I guess'_ she sighed heavily as she walked quietly over to where he sat.

* * *

"Dimuerta", he said sullenly. He had been waiting for her, of course, and he could hear her oh-so-light footsteps on the earth now. Only _she_ could move with such grace.

"Alistair" she said in reply, and came to sit beside him.

As she sat there, he couldn't help but stare at her. She was perfect, down to the very last detail. Her white blonde hair was billowing around her face in the breeze, like a blizzard in the depths of winter. Her skin was almost as pale, except for the faintest hint of pink just below the surface of her cheeks, which deepened readily whenever she was complimented, which was something that Alistair tried to do often, if only to see that rose petal colour in her cheeks. Her eyes were big, and of the most mesmerising emerald green that he had ever seen; he had often noticed a shimmering quality to the colour, sometimes they seemed to swirl with silver, other times laced with gold. Her lips were full and perfectly shaped, and often distracted Alistair to the point of stopping mid sentence to hold his breath in an attempt not to attack those lips with the full force of his longing.

She was an Elf, and a mage, and by any human's – not to mention Templar's – standards, he should not even entertain the ideas that were in his mind almost constantly now. Alistair had decided long ago though that he did not care what others thought, or would think, that is, if she felt the same way. He thought she did, she had said so before, though not in so many words. He could not imagine life without this woman, now. This deadly, incredible woman. He could feel his desire boiling to the surface of his skin, and he felt as though he might burst at any second.

"Hamin, emma lath." she breathed at the same time putting a delicate hand on his knee.

His heart jumped into his throat. _'Maker's Breath! She'll be the death of me!'_

Alistair had picked up some basic Elvish simply from having been travelling with two Elves for what had been almost a year. He knew exactly what she had said to him. _'Relax, my love' _he churned this over in his mind. What did that mean? Could she tell he was tense, anxious? _'Of course she can, you idiot' _he thought to himself, _'She's the most intuitive person I've ever met. You read like a book for her, Alistair'. _And what about the 'my love' part? Was he her love? She was certainly his, and had been since the first day he met her. He had realised this after the battle at Ostagar, when he thought she had perished with the other Grey Wardens. That was when he first knew he loved her. As he was reliving the moment that he had found her to be alive, he looked at her, and for the first time noticed that she looked concerned. She definitely knew what he was so worked up about, he decided. _'Well, no backing out now'_ he shifted his weight to lean closer to her, to make sure that no one but she could hear what he had to say. He gulped loudly as he tried to control his nerves.

"So let me ask you something" he spluttered, "a personal question."

* * *

She looked deep into his eyes. He was so nervous. He was helplessly adorable when he was nervous. Oftentimes he would use humour to try and cover up his unease, but there was no hint of humour in those dark brown eyes tonight. She held back a sigh.

"What kind of personal question?" She rather hoped it would be one that she was longing to hear him ask, though she already knew that it was not.

"Well... you and Zevran seem to have gotten... quite close..." he seemed to struggle to get the words out.

"I suppose we have." She did not want to speak of this with Alistair, but she could not lie to him, and she knew that he deserved to know. She felt so selfish and rotten, but in truth she loved them both.

How different they both were! She loved Zevran for his open and upfront personality, his shameless flirting, his long golden hair, and his handsome Elven looks; youthful, though undeniably hardened from a life as an assassin. She knew that he cared for her too, though he denied this to himself; assassins are trained to disregard all emotions. But Alistair, Alistair was something else entirely. He was young and naive, pure of heart, brave, strong, handsome, yet goofy and clumsy also, and hopelessly romantic and sweeter than any man she had ever encountered. There simply was nothing else like him in the world. She knew where this conversation was leading and that she would have to make a choice. She had been foolish to let herself get so close to both men, and she hated to hurt either one of them, but she was unequivocally in love with Alistair, and she could not let him go. She sincerely hoped that Zevran would understand, and that they could stay as close friends. _'Oh what a miserable mess I have made!' _she thought.

"I need to know. Is it me, or him?" Alistair fixed his eyes upon the ground between his feet, a look of determination on his face; clearly, he was trying his hardest not to make eye contact. It was either because he was feeling guilty for making her choose like this, or because he did not want her to see his face if she decided to choose Zevran. She thought it was most likely for both of those reasons.

"Don't make me decide between you, Alistair" She replied this way for Zevran's sake; she knew he would be able to hear everything, Elves have far superior hearing to any human, and so she hoped that this answer to Alistair's blunt question would let Zevran know that she loved him, too.

"If you can't, well that's entirely your decision, but, then, I-I can't do this. I can't." He stammered as his eyes welled up. He snapped his head back down and scrunched his eyes together, as if he were waiting for the killing blow.

"You're right. My decision has been made. I choose you." She almost choked on the words as she spoke them; she knew she was making the right decision, yet it was still so hard to say aloud.

"Thank you. So much." He sighed, "I have one more question for you, then." He seemed to relax a little. His head was raised now, though his eyes struggled to meet hers, still. They seemed to be watching her lips rather intently, however.

She smiled a little then, "Oh?" no matter how wretched she felt for causing Alistair and Zevran pain, she could never keep a smile from her face for very long with Alistair around.

"How do you feel about-about me?"

"You tell me first" she teased gently.

"Yes, I suppose that's only fair," he chuckled lightly before clearing his throat, "I have come to care for you a great deal. Do you-I mean, could you... feel the same way about me?"

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she answered, "I think I already do."

His lip curled up at the corner into a half smile, "Good. I'm glad that's all cleared up" and almost before he had gotten the words out he had reached out and pulled her to him, and kissed her fervently, but gently, before she had had time to even blink. "Was that too soon?" he let go of her; hesitantly, she noted.

"No, not really." She encouraged, "I liked it." She looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes in an attempt to show him just how much she had liked it.

"Good-Maker's Breath but you're beautiful! I am a lucky man." Suddenly he seemed to realise just how intense it had all gotten and he cleared his throat again, more loudly this time. "Right, well, we should get back to what we were doing before... lest I forget what we are all here for in the first place!" he grinned affectionately at her, and ever so lightly stroked her still blushing cheek with the back of his hand, before heaving out a sigh and getting to his feet.


	2. Chapter 2 Zevran's Revelation

2. Zevran's revelation

Dimuerta watched as Alistair walked away. She felt the fluttering of her stomach still, from that kiss. What a kiss! It had made her forget about her Zevran, momentarily. She was dazed. The conversation she had just had with Alistair had ended much better than she'd anticipated, but there was still Zevran to speak with. This thought brought her hurtling back to reality. She looked across the camp fire for him, and could see that he had stopped sharpening his dagger. Whether he had actually finished the task or just stopped mid-way, she couldn't tell, but there was now a lantern glowing inside Zevran's tent, and she could make out his silhouette. _'He is probably waiting for me'_ she thought. She got to her feet and made her way over to the tent.

When she pulled back the flap of the tent to climb in, she was taken aback by the sight of him. He looked sad, like a kicked puppy. The sparkle that she had once thought never left his topaz eyes was, alas, gone. This observation stabbed her in the chest like the Crow dagger that he wielded, together with his Longsword. She wished so much that there was some way to avoid hurting either of them.

* * *

Her face was twisted into a grimace of torment. Zevran knew how upset she was to have to do this, and he had known it was coming all along. He had thought that he would be fine with it. She cared for him, no doubt, but he had always known that the bond between she and Alistair was something different, deep and unchanging. It was something that he could not understand, at least not before now, nor compete with, and he had always known that she would choose Alistair. Until he had overheard the conversation that she had had with Alistair, it had not troubled him, but as soon as Alistair had asked, "Is it me, or him?" Zevran felt an overwhelming anxiousness, and a longing for her to choose him, instead, though he knew it was hopeless. What was this new emotion? He had wondered, as he tried to block out the now private conversation between her and Alistair. It was only then that he had come to the conclusion that he must have cared for her a great deal more than he had thought. This was a difficult realisation for the assassin; somehow the fair Warden had gotten under his thick skin, and now there was simply nothing for it. He loved her. And now he felt a pain far worse than any pain of physical injury he had ever endured from any foe; not that he had endured many; he had an uncanny ability to simply not be there when an enemy moved to strike.

She looked awkward, which was very strange for her, such a brilliantly graceful woman as she was. He gently took her hand in both of his, and brought her to sit in front of him. He wanted no more than to embrace her, to comfort her, though he was willing to bet his life that he was in more agony than she. "Mi amora" he said softly.

"Zevran I-I'm-so sorry!" she blubbed and dropped her head down. He did not like to see her upset. He needed to be strong for her so that she could be happy.

"There is another, I see." he tried to sound nonchalant, as if it didn't trouble him. She was not fooled.

"...Yes I-but I never meant to hurt you..." she trailed off, lost for words it seemed.

Zevran lifted her chin up to see her face. "Do not trouble yourself, my dear." he meant this sincerely, "I hope that we can remain friends though."

She seemed relieved. "Of course! I would like that. Very much." Her eyes glistened with tears as she spoke. He wiped a stray drop from her cheek with his finger as he placed a hand on the side of her face and looked meaningfully into her green eyes. They were by far a more beautiful green than any he had ever seen, they always seemed to glow; there was a silvery tinge to their glow tonight.

"I will follow you anywhere, woman."

"But... Alistair... I-" he cut her off, placing his index finger over her lips. This was all he wanted now. He had to have her in his life somehow.

"Ma vhenan'ara," he whispered to her, "It makes no matter to me. I am yours."

* * *

She couldn't believe her ears. Was he really saying this? She had just rejected him for another, a fellow companion, and he was sitting there telling her that he would stay with her, loyal? And did he really just tell her _"you are my heart's desire"_? She felt overjoyed that she could keep him with her; she still loved him, though she had chosen Alistair, and she would have been heartbroken if Zevran had decided to take his leave. It would be too much to bare, not to hear his beautiful silky voice every day; she loved the Antivan's accent, and the way he made every word sound sensuous. It seemed clear now that he was not going to leave her side, and that he had cared for her even more than she had thought. She did not like to feel as though she was leading him on however, but she reasoned that he knew what he was doing; she had been very clear on who she had chosen.

He was gazing deeply into her eyes as she answered in their shared mother-tongue, "Ma nuvenin. Ma serannas." he seemed pleased that she had accepted him, as though he had been uncertain that she had feelings for him any more, "Ma'arlath." she added under her breath. She knew that Alistair would understand. There are many different kinds of love, after all, and she had said it so quietly that she almost let herself believe that Zevran hadn't heard.

* * *

"As you wish. Thank you." she had said to him. He was happy with this answer, she was not rejecting him after all, and this gave him a glint of hope. It was possible that she did care for him, differently to the way she cared for Alistair perhaps, but he felt an overpowering need for her to care for him in some way - any way. He was also happy to speak in his native Elven tongue, she was the only Elf of all of his companions, and so he did not get to speak his beloved, ancient language often enough. He was Antivan of course, but all Elves spoke at least a little Elvish; it was very important to their race to keep what little heritage they had left. "I love you." came to his ears so quietly that he most certainly would have missed it had he only weak, human hearing. Consumed by his sudden, raw emotion, Zevran scooped her up and embraced her tightly. It was more than he could have ever hoped for. He would not leave her side now, for anything in the world.

* * *

Dimuerta found herself lying awake in her tent that night. She felt confused down to her very core. Was it supposed to be this hard? She had thought that she loved Alistair much more than Zevran; differently, but now she was not so sure. She felt possessive of both of them, and she knew that this could not continue. She could not have them both. _'What in all of Thedas am I to do?' _she whispered to the roof of her tent as she stared up at it, as if in doing so, she would find an answer. It was a very long night indeed.

Two tents away, Zevran did not get much sleep either. His glint of hope had grown in size as he had embraced her earlier; he had felt her cling to him tightly in return, desperately, even. It would be a difficult assignment; trying to win out over Alistair, but he felt it was an entirely necessary one. Having never truly cared for anyone before, and never having had someone care for him in any way before, this was just too precious to let go of. Yes, he would stay with her until she sent him away. Images of himself with his Warden on his arm filled his head. _His_ Warden. He liked the way that sounded. Zevran continued to daydream in this way until the first light broke upon the horizon. He smiled to himself as he contemplated seeing her again. Perhaps he would rouse her for an early morn sparring session?


	3. Chapter 3 More Confusion

3. More Confusion

The Warden awoke to the sound of metal on metal. Weapons clashing. She froze in terror. Had the Darkspawn found their camp and sprung a surprise attack? She was sure that there had been no Darkspawn near enough to reach them before they'd moved on… she relaxed as her grogginess evaporated and she realised that it was Zevran and Alistair sparring that she could hear. Then she was tensed up all over again; her two loves, the men she could not truly choose between. She dressed quickly in her robes, picked up her staff and walked towards the assassin and the warrior. She stopped to lean against a tree on the edge of the small clearing to watch the action.

"Ha ha!" Zevran cried jubilantly as he darted away from Alistair's shield bash and appeared behind the warrior, Crow dagger at his throat. "I could have your head in the blink of an eye, oh mighty Warrior!" he mocked.

"How did you even do that? You were there and then you just – _disappeared!_" Alistair exclaimed, eyes wide with incredulity.

"Ah, my dear friend, but that would be telling, would it not?" Zevran grinned mischievously. "Alas, since it seems I have won -_again_ – it must be my turn to take on our fine Lady here." He held out a gloved hand for her to take. She realised with a twinge of excitement that he was wearing the embroidered Dalish gloves that she had given to him as a gift not long after they'd met. He had not worn them before now.

She took his hand as she danced delicately into the clearing. Both Zevran and Alistair seemed a little stunned by this movement. Alistair was the first to find his voice.

"Dimuerta!" he shook his head as if to regain his vision; he hadn't seen her there watching them. "You're awake! Did you sleep well?" Alistair rushed over and gave her an excited kiss on the cheek. Zevran kept her hand securely in his own.

The rivalry was obvious, but she thought it best to ignore it. "Yes, thank you." He did not need to know that she'd hardly slept at all. "Shall we?" she addressed Zevran with a confident smile, and twirled into position as he released her hand; she was always happy on the battlefield, it felt like home. Alistair took a few steps back to watch the show.

"Ci, amora" Zevran smiled hugely at her, and took up his position. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Alistair wince.

The two Elves were well matched, although their skills were entirely different. They circled for a while, getting a feel for each others strengths and weaknesses. Zevran moved first. Stealthily, his footwork immaculate, he darted around and sprang at Dimuerta from behind. She was ready for him. Raising her staff in the air she cast her Mind Blast spell, stunning Zevran where he stood, half crouched, dagger and Longsword ready to find purchase below her ribs. Dimuerta spun around, holding her staff mere inches away from Zevran's face, her deadly Fireball spell ready to unleash. Zevran regained conciousness then and dropped his weapons. Raising his hands in the air he announced proudly, "You have me, my dear Warden. Surely there is no man who could stand to fell such a terrifying beauty."

"'Tis true," she laughed, disengaging her battle stance and cracking the ground with the bottom end of her staff.

Zevran bowed before her, more graceful than seemed possible, "You are truly a force to be reckoned with, milady."

"Ha ha ha," came Alistair's hearty laughter from the sidelines. He clapped as he walked towards Dimuerta. "Brilliant. Truly, amazing." He gushed. "You could've finished him off though!"

"Behave." she scolded him as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in to his chest. He gave her his best innocent look, and kissed her gently on the nose.

"Pardon me for interrupting, but I was rather under the impression that we were to depart for Denerim this morning, no?" Zevran said, in his silky smooth voice. If he was irritated by Alistair's public display of affection, he hid it well.

"You are right, Zevran. We must make haste." Dimuerta twisted out of Alistair's strong arm and headed back to the tents. "You two could make yourselves useful and make us some breakfast" she called back over her shoulder. "I'll go get Wynne."

She found Wynne by the extinguished camp fire dutifully placing the last of the Lyrium potions into her pack. "Good morrow, Wynne." she called as she approached the elder mage. They had known each other when they both lived in the Circle Tower with the other Magi, but it was only since they had joined forces against the Blight that they had become friends.

"Good morning, my dear Dimuerta." Wynne replied warmly. "I am afraid we are running rather low on Lyrium potions presently."

"We are making preparations to leave for Denerim as we speak. I will be sure to pick up more supplies from the Landlord of the Gnawed Noble when we get there." Dimuerta always insisted on making all of their potions and poultices from scratch; she was skilled in the art of herbalism, and the tavern's Landlord always stocked plenty of the vials, flasks and distillation agent that she needed for the task. "Speaking of which, I am taking Alistair and Zevran along with me, and I would feel much better having our talented healer along for the trip."

Wynne smiled, "Of course. I would be most grateful for the change of scenery; we have been on the road a long time. Might there be time enough to visit the old Tranquil Proprietor at The Wonders of Thedas, while we are in the area?" The small establishment stocked imported goods from the Circle Tower, and was a favourite of Wynne's.

"That is another reason I sought to ask you along, my dear friend." Dimuerta placed a hand upon her friend's shoulder, "Come. Alistair and Zevran are preparing breakfast. We should eat before we ride out."

After a filling breakfast of cooked wild mushrooms and the rest of the cony stew leftover from the night before, the party saddled the horses and set out for the Market District of Ferelden's capital city.

It was a fairly short and uneventful journey; the party had set up camp in the woodland not far outside the city the day before. They did not encounter any Darkspawn along the way; Dimuerta and her companions had purged the area of the foul creatures the first time they had passed through, and none had dared to venture too close since.

Only when they had entered the realm of Denerim did they run into trouble. In a back alley close to the Market District, they were ambushed by a group of thugs; cronies of the illusive assassin who went by the name of 'K'. Dimuerta had half expected it; she had been helping out a rival of K's with odd jobs in exchange for coin, and K had not been best pleased.

The party were confronted by the thugs; Dimuerta counted at least eight. As these thugs attempted to overwhelm her party, she cast her Mind Blast spell as she had on Zevran earlier in the morn, and stunned all but the two on the edge of the scene, whom Dimuerta recognised as archers. Whilst the main group were momentarily stunned, Zevran was able to take out most of them with well aimed stabs to vulnerable areas and a _coups de grace_ here and there. Slower with his heavy armour, Alistair took out a couple of his own with a heavy blow to the skull with the hilt of his sword. Dimuerta quickly disposed of the two archers with her Death Cloud spell, Wynne hanging back to focus her energies on keeping the rest of the party healed, though it was not needed this time; K's thugs had clearly not been aware of her companions' prowess in battle.

"It seems we shall have to pay our friend K a visit whilst we are in town. It would be rude of us not to, and I do not wish to appear without manners." Dimuerta stated darkly as she looked about her at the fresh corpses.

"Then we are in luck, my dearest Warden. This kind fellow here has gallantly left us directions to K's humble abode. How thoughtful of him." said Zevran smoothly as he removed a folded piece of vellum and a coin purse from the dead thug he now stood over, giving the corpse a swift kick for good measure before he moved on to the next one.

"Very thoughtful indeed." Dimuerta agreed.

K was no more difficult than his cronies to incapacitate. Alone and unaware in his dingy hideout, Dimuerta let Zevran have his fun. The mark did not even notice the ex-Crow assassin as he approached to perform his _coups de grace_. It was a swift kill. They would have no more trouble from that particular foe.

The party made their way into the Market District after that brief encounter. It was a busy place; there were many stalls and shops, as well as the Chantry and the Gnawed Noble Tavern; there were not many things that could not be found in Denerim.

Dimuerta stopped by the Gnawed Noble with Alistair for her herbalism supplies, whilst Zevran accompanied Wynne to The Wonders Of Thedas. Alistair insisted on staying with Dimuerta, although she had tried to encourage him to have a look at the weapons and armour available at Wade's Emporium.

* * *

As soon as they had stepped out of the Gnawed Noble tavern, Alistair saw his chance. Trying not to think too much about it, he grabbed her hand, and swiftly pulled her around the corner to stand outside the Alienage, just in case Zevran came out of the Wonders Of Thedas and ruined his plan. Zevran was not going to back down easily, that was clear, as Zevran had announced to him in the camp that morning, _"She may have chosen you for now my friend, but she loves me also, or so I have good reason to believe. May the best Elf win!" _Alistair had known already that she cared for Zevran; she cared for everyone, it was her nature. But somehow the way that Zevran had said _"she loves me"_ unsettled Alistair, and he felt compelled to show Dimuerta how much she meant to him. This was merely step one of his plan.

"Alistair? What's wrong?" she looked around suspiciously, she must have thought he'd seen someone, some sort of danger.

"Nothing, sorry, love. I just wanted to talk with you while we were alone." he blushed a little, thinking of what he was going to try to say. He could never get his nerves under control when it came to her. _'Darkspawn, no problem, a woman, no chance.' _

"Oh. What is it then? I want to take you to Wade's, you need a better sword."

"It won't take long, I promise." he took a deep breath before he continued, "Here, look at this. Do you know what that is?" In the palm of his hand he held out a tiny, delicate pink rose to her. He had looked after it carefully, even having Wynne enchant it to keep it from dying.

"Why, it is a rose." she looked a little confused. Alistair hoped he hadn't insulted her intelligence by asking her such a ridiculous question.

"That's right." he paused, unsure how to continue.

"You've been thumbing that flower for a while, now." she stated. She was so perceptive; he had thought that only Wynne knew about the rose.

"I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The Darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since." The truth came tumbling out of his mouth. He hoped he didn't come across as too much of a sap.

"That's a nice sentiment." Dimuerta looked almost impressed. She smiled warmly at him.

"...I thought that I might... give it to you, actually." Maker, this was hard. "In a lot of ways I... think the same thing... when I look at you." Alistair blushed again. Everything about her made him want to declare his love in every conceivable way, but also made him shy to do so.

"Thank you Alistair, that's a lovely thought." she seemed to like it, or was that his imagination?

"I'm glad you like it. I was just thinking... here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself." he felt more confident now that she had accepted his gift. "You've had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amongst all this... darkness."

"So... are we married now?" she asked in jest. Alistair almost wished she had been serious.

His tendency to make jokes when things got uncomfortable won out, and he answered her with a laugh, "Ha! You won't land me that easily, woman! I know I'm quite the prize, after all, no need to start crying on me or anything. I guess it was, uh, just a stupid impulse. I don't know, was it the wrong one?" he was suddenly unsure of himself again.

"No, it wasn't. Thank you, Alistair." she said earnestly.

"I'm glad you like it. Now... if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it." he felt very hot under the collar now. He very much wished they truly were alone.

"Sounds good! Off with the armour, then." she teased him.

Feeling extremely self-conscious, Alistair laughed rather unconvincingly, "Bluff called! Damn, she saw right through me!"

"You're so cute when you're bashful." she looked... wistful, Alistair thought.

"I'll be..." he laughed nervously again, "I'll be standing over here, until the blushing stops. Just to be, uh, safe. You know how it is." he felt so awkward, flirting like that, when she seemed so comfortable. _'Why would she not be comfortable with it, when she is so beautiful? I'd wager she's never been knocked back by any man before, even a woman would have difficulty with that.' _He felt irritated by his own inexperience.

"Don't be silly." she said sweetly. "Wynne enchanted it?" she asked as she carefully took the rose from Alistair's still open palm.

"Oh, er, yes. I was waiting for the right time to give it to you. I thought, after last night, maybe that time was now."

"I will cherish it, emma lath. You are so thoughtful." she blushed then, and Alistair forgot to breathe for a moment. She never failed to stun him. "I would like to go to The Wonders Of Thedas before we see Wade. I have an idea."

Alistair could hardly contain his excitement when she took his hand in hers, to lead him to the little store just past the tavern. "I think I'll wait outside. I... want to get a tan?" he ended in a questioning tone, not being able to think of a better excuse. Dimuerta just nodded, and went inside, still holding the rose in her hand.

She was back a few minutes later. "Wynne and Zevran must have moved on to the market, they weren't in there." she said, as though she knew that Zevran was the reason he had waited outside. "Look." she said, and she held out a fine silver chain. Hanging from the chain was the tiny rose, suspended in a glass sphere. "Now I can keep it with me, always." she looked at him meaningfully from underneath her eyelashes, the way that she did sometimes, which always gave Alistair butterflies.

"That's... amazing." Alistair choked; he wanted to whisk her off to the Chantry and wed her right there and then. Once he'd calmed himself he said, "I think it's missing something though. May I?" and he took the rose pendant out of Dimuerta's hands. "I'll be back in a moment." he took the pendant to the cobbler's across the market, whom Alistair knew was also skilled in engraving. Two silvers later, Alistair returned to Dimuerta, still waiting outside The Wonders Of Thedas. "Here." he held the pendant up for her to see.

"It's... perfect. Thank you."

* * *

Alistair held up her new pendant. She noticed it immediately. Dangling from the same link as the rose was a small silver charm, flat and rectangular. It was engraved beautifully with the words _'A Rose amongst Thorns. For my Dimuerta. Yours always, Alistair.' _her breath caught. "It's... perfect. Thank you."

She felt the blush deepen in her cheeks as Alistair placed the pendant around her neck. He stood back for a moment, admiring the sight, then, his eyes glistening, he tilted her head up with a finger under her chin, and stole a kiss.

When they had both composed themselves, Dimuerta lead Alistair to find Wynne and Zevran. The two were strolling around the market, talking and laughing. Usually Wynne did not like to be left alone with Zevran, she was not comfortable with the way that Zevran flirted with everyone around him, or with his usual interest in her bosom.

Zevran saw them first, and approached Dimuerta. Taking her hand he kissed it and said, "My lady, you are back. I trust you found everything you needed?" his eyes flickered to the chain around her neck, and he frowned.

"I got our supplies yes, but I wanted to visit Wade's Emporium to see his wares. Alistair needs a better sword, and your armour is wearing thin; I am concerned for your safety, Zevran." she gave Zevran a wink.

"Ah yes, I suppose my armour has seen better days." his frown lessened with her playful teasing, but it did not disappear.

Wade greeted the four companions excitedly as they entered the Emporium. "Dimuerta! You are here again, at last. I have been positively itching to give you your new armour!"

"New armour?" enquired Zevran, "I was not aware that you had your armour custom made. Come to think of it, I was not aware you wore armour..." he trailed off.

"Actually Zevran, this is not for me. It's for you, to replace your current set." Dimuerta informed him.

"Ah, I am glad, it would sadden me greatly not to see you in your, dare I say, very flattering robes..." he trailed off again, apparently admiring her robes as she stood there. From the back of the room, Alistair glared at Zevran. The Elf studiously ignored his warning.

"Wonderful!" Wade interrupted, "You will be pleased with it, Dimuerta, it is far superior to the first set I made for you. Here is your new Drake Scale armour!"

"Thank you, Wade." she smiled at the blacksmith. "Zevran, would you like to see how this fits?" she passed the armour to Zevran who was still admiring her attire. She turned away whilst Zevran removed his old armour in favour of the new set. "Have you any decent swords, Wade? Alistair has outgrown his, it seems."

She managed to find a decent Longsword for Alistair named the _Imperial Edge_. This would have to do for now. Zevran had found his new armour to fit perfectly, and discarded the old armour, though he seemed almost shocked. Dimuerta hoped she had not offended Zevran by having new armour made for him without his knowledge. They said farewell to Wade and left to retrieve their mounts from the stables. Now was as good a time as any to tell her friends what she had planned. "I have something to ask of you all," she said seriously as they loaded the saddle bags with their purchases, "I intend to return to the Wilds as soon as possible, to face Flemeth. I would ask that you accompany me, if it so pleases you."

Wynne answered first. "I had a feeling that this was coming, sooner or later. I would be glad to help you, my dear. It is the right thing to do."

"I don't particularly like helping Morrigan with anything, but you'd face Flemeth whether I agreed or not, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt, or anything. I'll come with you." Alistair answered next.

"And how could I refuse such a chance to put this fine new armour to the test? The Witch of the Wilds would not stand a chance against your Zevran, my dear Warden." Zevran said, accentuating the 'your' and giving Alistair a sideways glance as he did so.

"Thank you. All of you. You are dear to me. I would not have asked your assistance if I did not think we could take her."

* * *

Later that evening, back at the camp, Zevran found the opportune moment to speak with Dimuerta. Alistair was out in the woods gathering Elfroot for Dimuerta's health poultices; she wanted plenty for the battle they would be having tomorrow. She was always so concerned with protecting her friends. She was sat in her tent measuring out the Lyrium dust she had bought earlier into flasks.

"My dear woman, could I steal a moment of your time?"

"Of course, Zevran. I always have time for you." she smiled at him; it was a dazzling smile, to say the very least.

"I... wanted to thank you. For the armour I mean. I imagine it was not too cheap to acquire." He was not shy as Alistair seemed to be, but he struggled to tell her of his feelings for her, even now that he had finally accepted those feelings himself.

"I hope I didn't offend you by having it made for you without asking first. I wanted it to be a surprise. I'm not sure why, now..." How could she think such a thing?

"Offend me? On the contrary, my dear." How ridiculous she could be sometimes!

"I didn't offend you? But you looked... shocked."

"Ah." he had forgotten how perceptive she was. "Yes I was shocked, in a good way. I would not have thought you would do something like that... for me. After all, the first time we met, I did try to kill you, did I not?"

She laughed. How sweet the sound was. "I do not hold that against you, Zevran. You have been a more loyal friend than I could have wished for, since then."

"I often wonder, my Warden, if there is a single man in this world who would not gladly rethink his allegiances but for the chance to follow you, wherever you may go." he smiled at the thought. He had pledged his allegiance to her the very minute he first saw her. He was on his back, and Alistair had his sword to Zevran's chest, lest he escape, when Dimuerta had come to look upon her would-be assassin. She had shown him mercy, and aside from her astonishing beauty, Zevran had seen something else in her. The purest soul he had ever encountered stood before him, and he had tried to assassinate it! He had loved her everyday since, unknowingly.

"You flatter me, though I do not deserve it." she seemed almost sad. He noticed the chain around her neck again, mostly concealed beneath her robes. His fingers twitched as they brushed her collarbone, and he lifted the chain out from her bodice. Hanging from it was a rose in a glass pendant and a small silver charm. There was an inscription on the charm. Alistair. Would she accept a token from him, as she clearly had from Alistair?

"I'm sorry. Does it upset you?" she asked, concerned.

"Not as such, I only ache to see that you have a token to remind you of him, yet none to remind you of me, emma lath." he replied passionately. What could he give her? This was no ordinary female; the usual gifts would not do for such a creature.

"What would you have me do, my deadly assassin? I have not received such a trinket from your handsome self." she said. Her eyes filled with desire, and her hands trembled slightly, as though she wanted to touch him.

Zevran felt his heart beat faster. There was so much electricity between them. "Perhaps, you would take this, at least until I find something more permanent?" Hmm. It seemed he would gladly give a ring to her, had he half a chance.

"An earring? It is beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"I found it on the body of my first mark as an assassin for the Crows. He was wearing this and little else. I thought it was beautiful and so I took it, to mark the occasion. I would like you to have it. You have given me so much, and I have given you nothing." It was the only meaningful possession he had, save for the few gifts that she had given him herself. He hooked the diamond droplet earring through the hole in her left lobe, his hand lingering at her neck.

"Thank you. I do not know what else to say." her hand reached up and found his, still by her neck. She laced her fingers with his, and brought his hand to rest over her heart. Her heart was beating just as fast as his. He could not resist any longer. He leaned in and kissed her so passionately that he even surprised himself. Love is a potent drug indeed.

* * *

Dimuerta felt the heat burn intensely inside her as she kissed Zevran back. It was all she could do to wait until he stopped. Zevran did not stop. With all her willpower she pulled herself back to put some distance between their lips, but she kept his hand in hers, still over her racing heart.

"It is so hard to resist you, my love." she said, still gasping to get her breath back.

"Then do not resist..." Zevran tempted her, his eyes burning.

"It would break Alistair's heart, love, if, after choosing him last night, I spent tonight with you." she wanted to be reckless, just for one night, but she could not hurt Alistair that way.

"Why must he be such a prude? If it were me, I would not worry so much. If you said you were mine, I would know that you would always come back to me." he put great emphasis on the word 'mine'.

"I would feel the same as he, Zevran. I am a very selfish person. I care deeply for both of you, and I keep you both when I should not, yet I still would be heartbroken if either of you were to warm another's bed. I am wicked. Maker forgive me. I deserve whatever punishment I am given."

"There you are wrong. I chose to stay, even though you had chosen Alistair. It is my own fault, my good lady, if my own heart is wounded, yet I do not care. Alistair is aware of your love for him, and for me, yet he stays. It is his own fault if his heart is broken. I feel I must also say that you do not need to fear any bed warming, other than your own. Of course, I can only speak for myself, but I would wager that Alistair also feels the same." It was a strange concept; Zevran being completely faithful to one woman.

"I am sorry for putting you through this, love. I would understand if you wanted to leave, really." she apologised sincerely.

"Do not be sorry. I am not." Zevran stated. He gave her a reassuring smile and tucked her hair behind her ear to see the earring once more, before leaning in and kissing her forehead. "Ma'arlath, Dimuerta. Do not forget it." Without another word, he exited her tent and returned to his own.

A while later, Alistair returned with the Elfroot she had sent him to get. "Here, I brought as much as I could carry, my dear." he said.

Dimuerta stood to greet him. "Thank you Alistair, this will make plenty of poultices. I did not want to risk anyone's life in the Wilds."

"You worry too much. We are not without skill you know!" he joked.

"I know, but if anything were to happen, I could never forgive myself. You are all so very precious to me." she said truthfully. "My companions are like family to me, Alistair. You are all my family."

"I had hoped that I was a little different to 'family' to you, actually." he smiled and moved closer to her, taking her hand and holding it at her side.

"Well yes, you knew what I meant..." she felt flustered. If her heart kept speeding up like this she would have a heart attack sooner or later, she thought.

"Yes, I did. Just making sure." he chuckled.

"I should make a start on these poultices. They won't make themselves." she wanted to invite him to her tent, but after that kiss with Zevran, she was feeling guilty again, not wanting to take anything further for fear of hurting one or both of them.

"Can I help? I've nothing better to do..." It seemed Alistair did not want to leave her be just yet, either.

"Alright, but try to keep up. I'm afraid I am an impatient tutor." she poked him in the ribs playfully, which provoked him to grab her by the waist and swing her around.

"None of that. You know I'm ticklish, but I am stronger than you, my love. I will beat you every time." he told her. Alistair and Dimuerta spent the remainder of the night making poultices, and resting as much as possible for the heavy days of travel that lay ahead of them.


	4. Chapter 4 Deep In The Wilds

4. Deep In The Wilds

It took five days on horseback to get to the Wilds with the entire group of companions; Dimuerta could have taken only Alistair, Wynne and Zevran with her to the Wilds, but she did not want to risk dividing her companions up for fear of an attack on the camp whilst she was gone. She spied a good place on the very edge of the Korcari Wilds to set up their camp, and the group settled down for the evening in reasonably good spirits; they had endured the Wilds before and had seen nothing they could not handle.

The next morning, Dimuerta was woken by Wynne, who had apparently come to see her.

"Good morning dear." Wynne said. She sounded motherly, as per usual, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness in her voice. Dimuerta sat upright, to get a better look at Wynne's face. She looked serious, too.

"Is something wrong Wynne? Are you alright?" She looked her friend over. She seemed fine.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Do not worry." Wynne said soothingly. "I wanted to speak to you about Zevran, actually. He is a changed man, it seems."

"How so?" What did she mean, _'changed man'_?

"Well, for one, he did not once mention my bosom yesterday." Wynne laughed lightly. "Not only this, but he also did not so much as glance at another female, or man for that matter, the way that we are all so accustomed to him doing."

"Oh?" this was a different Zevran, after all.

"Yes, and I caught him several times staring at you on the journeys to and from Denerim," she continued. "When we separated in the Market, he was happy enough to talk with me about nothing in particular, but when you returned, his eyes lit up like I've never seen before."

"I see." Wynne was also a perceptive woman, she noted.

"I know not what you have done to the man, but you have changed him somehow. For the better, I say."

"That may be, but it was not my intention to change anyone." would the guilt never end?

"There seems to be some rivalry between him and Alistair, also, I've noticed." she added. "I'm sure that they know what they are doing; men will be men I'm afraid, but do you?"

"I do not, Wynne. I am ashamed to say it." there was no sense in lying about it.

Wynne smiled kindly, "Well just try not to let it affect your decisions as a Grey Warden. Remember, the fate of all Ferelden lies in your hands. Do not let your heart lead you in places where your head should do the leading."

The older woman was wise; she knew what she was saying. "Thank you. I will keep that in mind. I would not see Ferelden fall for the sake of my own selfishness."

"I am glad to hear it. I will let you prepare for our journey to the Wilds, then." and with that, she left Dimuerta to herself.

With the same three dear companions as the week previous when she had visited Denerim, Dimuerta lead the way through the Wilds in haste. Ever fearful for the safety of her friends, she did not want to linger there; more than Darkspawn was lurking deep in the Korcari Wilds.

They made it to Flemeth's hut in good time. Providing the battle went as planned, they would be back at the camp before the day was out.

Flemeth stood outside the entrance to her hut; she had been expecting them. As the party approached, the elderly apostate addressed Dimuerta, "Changed your mind already have you? I've changed knickers less often." she tutted.

Dimuerta looked around at her companions; one by one they all nodded, subtly. They were ready. "I need to kill you, now." she told Flemeth, bluntly. There was no need for niceties this time around.

"It is a dance poor Flemeth knows well; let us see if she remembers the steps. Come, she will earn what she takes. I'd have it no other way." and with that, Flemeth shape-shifted into a terrifying High Dragon. Dimuerta had prepared her friends well for the battle; both Zevran and Alistair now wore armour that was highly resistant to fire.

The health poultices served them well when Wynne could not heal them all quickly enough. Flemeth was more powerful than a whole horde of Darkspawn, Ogres and Emissaries included. She immediately singled Dimuerta out as the biggest threat, and aimed many ranged attacks at her alone. This satisfied Dimuerta; she would rather take the brunt of the attacks to spare her friends. She could withstand more than most of her companions anyway, even with her lack of armour. Fortunately, Flemeth did not move from her position on the grassy mound to the side of her hut, and Dimuerta used this to her advantage; casting her Death Cloud and Tempest spells over that area to drain the life from the ancient Shape-Shifter. Alistair and Zevran bravely attacked the humongous Dragon-woman at her feet, dealing a generous amount of pain to her. She whipped around at the height of the battle, when she was close to death, and snatched Zevran up with one enormous, clawed foot, and attempted to squeeze him and shatter his body. Dimuerta shot Wynne a panicked look; there was not a lot the mages could do to help the assassin, their Stun and Paralysis spells had no effect on such a powerful foe. It was Alistair who saved him, leaping onto Flemeth's back, he thrust his sword deeply into the base of her long, dragon neck, causing her to drop Zevran with an ear-splitting screech. Zevran struggled to his feet, and promptly resumed his hacking and slashing; he was not badly hurt. _'Thank the Maker'_ Dimuerta thought. Alistair and Zevran continued their brutal assault on the Witch, the two mages supporting them, until at last she was felled, and she lay still, remaining in her Dragon form.

Alistair was a little bloodied, and Zevran held a hand to his rib cage where Flemeth had gripped him. Dimuerta was slightly charred from the flame-breath attacks; though she had managed to stave off most of them with her Arcane Shield. Wynne was able to heal them all with no trouble; her skills as a Spirit Healer were invaluable. Once Wynne had finished her healing duties, the party scoured Flemeth's Dragon body for anything that could be of use.

"We are ridiculously awesome." Zevran stated, as he admired their handiwork. "It is a fine thing, to say that I had a part in slaying the legendary Witch of the Wilds."

"It was necessary. I am just glad you are all OK." Dimuerta replied, outwardly relieved.

"You look a bit worse for ware though, my dear. That blasted Witch aimed most of her attacks at you! She paid little attention to the rest of us, confound her!" Alistair exclaimed, enraged.

"I am fine, Alistair. Once I have bathed I will look no different than usual, I assure you." she soothed.

"I am also in need of a bath. May I join you for the task, fair Warden? It would be less of a chore, with two of us there." Zevran suggested with a smirk; he was watching Alistair's face for a reaction. He got one.

"YOU MAY NOT!" Alistair bellowed.

Zevran simply laughed, unperturbed. "Forgive me, my short-tempered friend, but I believe it is the Warden's choice, and not yours." He seemed to be speaking of something more than the bathing now.

Wynne interjected this time. Rolling her eyes at the two men she told them, "Enough, you two! For goodness' sake. A lady bathes in private. End of discussion."

"I should like to share in this private time." Zevran continued.

"Andraste's holy-" Wynne started, but was interrupted by Dimuerta.

"It's OK Wynne, he is only joking. He knows I will not allow it."

Alistair let out a sigh of relief as Zevran nodded in confirmation to Dimuerta. He muttered something under his breath about wishing he had let the Dragon squish Zevran, and then said, "Right, well watch it, Elf."

"It is you who should be 'watching it', Shem." Zevran countered. The return journey was much the same, Wynne and Dimuerta rode ahead in an attempt to block out the sound of the men's bickering.

When they returned to the camp where their other companions were waiting for them, the sky was dark again and the air was cool. Continuing the friendly rivalry, Zevran had challenged Alistair to a duel as soon as they had dismounted their steeds, and the two were now headed into the small area beyond the tents which had been kept clear for the purpose of sparring. Alistair had accepted the challenge as a matter of pride; he was skilled with shield and sword, but was not a duellist. Zevran, on the other hand, was an accomplished duellist, just one of his many talents.

Morrigan stood, hands on hips, outside of her tent, eyes fixed on Dimuerta as the party arrived back at camp. Once she was sure that Dimuerta had seen her, she turned and waited inside the tent for the Warden.

Dimuerta went straight to see Morrigan, once she had bathed and changed her robes for less bloodied ones. Morrigan spoke first, her back to Dimuerta, not having bothered to turn around to greet her. "It is done, then." She said.

"Yes, Flemeth has been slain. It is over, for now."

"I am grateful to you. You are truly a good… friend, I suppose. Tis not something I have ever had before. I did not think I needed friends. Twas an unnecessary burden, to form relationships, or so I thought. In this case it seems I was wrong. You have helped me defeat my mother, when I found out that she sought to take my body for her own. I could not have done it on my own, so… thank you."

"You are welcome, Morrigan." Dimuerta replied. She knew the apostate mage well; speaking kindly to another person was not something she did lightly. She must have appreciated Dimuerta's efforts a great deal.


	5. Chapter 5 Of Kings and Rogues

5. Of Kings and Rogues

Dimuerta bade Morrigan a good night and left the apostate to herself, as she preferred, and made her way over to her two loves, who were still duelling, a short way off from the main camp. There was but one thing left to do before she would have to go to the Landsmeet, but considering the way the events of the present day had gone, it did not worry her so much. The Landsmeet was playing on her mind though. She had put it off as long as she could, tying up loose ends, finishing outstanding errands for the Blackstone Irregulars and the Mages Collective among many others, and helping her companions with their problems. She had helped Oghren to find and work things out with Felsi, his lost love, she had located and retrieved Sten's sword, and even roamed the depths of Cadash Thaig with Shale to find clues to the Golem's past. There really was no more she could do. Now she could do no more than hope that the Landsmeet side with herself and not with Teyrn Loghain. The thought of that tyrant brought back terrible memories of returning to Ostagar, where the battle against the Blight should have ended, and seeing the late King Cailan's corpse defaced and strung up upon the bridge to the Tower of Ishal... she shook her head to try and clear the images from her mind as she approached the duelling men.

"I win again! I have quite a streak going it seems." Zevran remarked smugly, the tip of his dagger to the side of Alistair's neck.

"Hrmph." Alistair huffed, "This doesn't prove anything. I am no duellist, as well you know it. Besides, my armour is so much heavier than yours! There is no way I could out step you in this!" he complained, gesturing to his massive Juggernaut armour.

"Then in that case, dear Alistair, I suggest a rematch, robes only. And to the victor, the spoils." Zevran's eyes darted to Dimuerta as she stepped closer to them now that the duelling was done. He gave a sly grin to Alistair as his eyes flickered to him and then back to Dimuerta again.

Alistair's face grew red as he let his temper rage again, "Hold on, I didn't agree-"

"Another time perhaps, hmm?" Dimuerta interrupted coolly.

Zevran sighed in faux sincerity. "And I was so looking forward to another challenging round with our masterful warrior here."

"Oh, ha-ha." Alistair replied sarcastically, "If I'm so terrible at it, then why did it take you so long to win?"

"It was, how you say, to humour you." Zevran shrugged his shoulders innocently. "It would not have been much of a duel otherwise, comprender?"

Alistair exploded. "I'll show you! You annoying, interfering-"

Dimuerta cut him off again, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Another time. Alistair, you can either get started on chopping that wood for the fire tonight" she waved a hand in the direction of the wood pile Oghren and Sten had gathered, "Or you can collect more Elfroot for me. We've a High Dragon to slay before we are to appear at the Landsmeet in two weeks time, so we'll need all the poultices we can carry."

"Ah. Alright. I'll get the Elfroot then. Could you... come with me?" Alistair's temper subsided and his face returned to it's natural, fair hue.

"Yes, if you like." Dimuerta conceded.

Zevran seemed slightly irritated by this, "It seems I will be the woodcutter this evening, then."

"Thank you, Zevran. I will see you when we are returned." Dimuerta said politely.

The two Grey Wardens had almost collected enough Elfroot to make fifty health poultices as the moon appeared in the dark cloudless sky. It was fast becoming winter now and the nights grew ever colder. The first covering of frost lay lightly on the grasses and plantlife in the Wilds tonight. "We should have enough now. Shall we head back? I shall be right glad of the fire in this chill air that has settled upon us." Dimuerta shivered.

Alistair slung his arm over her slight shoulders and pulled her closer to him. "I can keep you warm as good as any fire."

"Mmmm" replied Dimuerta, feeling warmer instantly.

"So. This Landsmeet. I hadn't realised how close it had gotten."

"Yes, I cannot put the thing off forever. I pushed it back as far as I could, but a date had to be set, and this was the date that Arl Eamon and I agreed upon months ago." Dimuerta sighed.

"What did you plan to do when we get there?" Alistair queried.

"Have Loghain removed from power for his treachery to the crown. That is what we always sought to do wasn't it?"

"Well, yes, but I meant after that. They're going to want someone on the throne."

She hadn't really thought about this, but now that she was, she supposed that Arl Eamon would see Alistair King. He was the rightful heir to the throne after all. Cailan had been Alistair's brother, though none save Eamon, Alistair and Duncan had known it. Alistair did not want to be King, and she knew this, but maybe it was the right thing to do? Ferelden needed a ruler, and after Cailan, Alistair was next in line. "Perhaps it is your destiny to fill the throne of Ferelden. I suppose that would make the most sense." The thought upset Dimuerta; she knew she could not be his Queen, and that he would have to marry eventually to produce an heir. This was not what she wanted, but she would not let her selfishness affect the future of Ferelden, as she had promised Wynne.

"I don't want to be King! They can find someone else!" Alistair was angry.

"But if there is no one else, love, they will need you." she tried to keep the torment this conversation had brought her from her face.

"You want to get rid of me don't you? You would push me away to be King, to be free of me!" he was hysterical now.

"No, Alistair, that isn't what I want at all. I-"

He cut her off. "I don't believe this! You _know_ I don't want that! Why would you torture me that way? I thought you cared about me! I guess I was wrong. I need to be alone. Right now." And with that, Alistair dropped his bundle of Elfroot on the frosty ground, and stalked away into the shadows of the overgrown trees of the Wilds.

Dimuerta collapsed. How had this gotten so out of hand so quickly? He'd left her. So that was all it took for him to go? Could he really have cared for her like he'd said before, then? She was thinking only of what was best for Ferelden, and he thought she wanted to get rid of him? On her knees, she forgot about the cold, her robes dampening from the frost on the grass beneath her, as tears began streaming down her face. This was not what she wanted. It was unbearable, the grief she felt now, and for what? She had done nothing wrong. She had voiced her thoughts, which were in no way final, and he had treated her like that. Suddenly, the sadness was gone, and she felt scorned. She rose from her knees, picked up the bundles of Elfroot, and ran back to camp, her head swirling with a mixture of emotion.

Throwing the Elfroot at the door of her tent as she ran past it, she headed straight for Zevran, who was piling the chopped wood on the fire.

On seeing her red eyes and pained expression as she ran to him, he opened his arms and embraced her tightly. "Warden? What has happened? Are you hurt?" there was genuine concern in his eyes as he searched her face for answers.

By way of reply, she could only kiss him. She could not talk about Alistair, the pain was too much. All she wanted to do was forget that it had ever happened. Wordlessly, she moved her hands to Zevran's chest, and began unbuttoning his shirt; he had removed his armour whilst chopping wood, and now wore only his simple Antivan robes.

He did not stop her, but instead, seeing her intent, whispered, "I was about to bathe, I found a hot spring a little way through the trees there" he nodded his head to the west. "Would you like to come with me, milady?" He was not asking playfully this time, his tone was serious.

She nodded, still too upset to speak, and slid her hand into his.

Zevran squeezed her hand gently and lead her through the trees to the hot spring.

It was beautiful. The pool was a light blue, the water clean and clear, and there was a light mist rolling off the surface of the pool into the chill night air. The place was utterly secluded; the trees dense around it save for the small opening where they had come through.

Dimuerta resumed her unbuttoning of Zevran's shirt as they stood beside the hot spring.

Before she could get the last button undone, Zevran took both her hands in his. "Are you certain, my lady? I would not be hurt if you decided you were not ready." his eyes were smouldering as he looked deep into hers, but he spoke in earnest.

"No. I want this." she replied, and she meant it. He treated her well; he was respectful and caring of her. She did love him, and all she wanted right now was to feel loved, and forget about the warrior who had abandoned her. Zevran released her hands and she unfastened the last button of his shirt, and slipped it off his strong shoulders. Tracing a hand over the lines of his abdomen, she took in the sight of her Elven rogue. His topaz eyes shone brightly in the dark night, and the cool breeze blew his long golden hair out behind him. His skin was ruddy from the Antivan sunshine in which he had lived for so long, but smooth, and warm to the touch. He was wild and exotic; truly tonight he was more beautiful than ever she'd looked upon him before. Zevran had never judged her for any decisions she had had to make in the past, nor would he in the future. This thought comforted her a great deal.

Silently, Zevran removed the belt from around her waist, and untied the lacing of her bodice, letting her robes fall to the ground around her feet. Their breathing became heavy as they finished undressing each other, and Zevran stepped into the pool. Standing waist high in the hot spring, his whole body seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, reflected in the water. He held out a hand for Dimuerta, "Come here, emma lath. Let me show you what you mean to me."

She took his hand and followed him into the pool, and let her deadly assassin take her. Under the moonlight they were enraptured by one another, and, entwined, they spent the night in their pool together.

When they could keep their eyes open no longer, the two Elves pulled themselves out of the water, and fell to sleep in the grass beside it, Dimuerta wrapped up in Zevran's arms.

As the first light of morning approached, the pair pulled on their robes, still strewn across the ground where they had taken them off the night before, and quietly left their hot spring to make their way back to camp, hand in hand.

Just before they got to the clearing where the group were camped, Zevran stopped Dimuerta, and turned her to face him. "I am glad you came with me last night. I had hoped to share the spring with you, my dearest, and now I am the happiest Elf that ever lived."

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks. "Thank you, my love. I shall never forget it. I feel sorry to have to leave this place, now. I would happily stay here, with you."

Zevran smiled affectionately as he brushed a wisp of hair from her face and kissed her forehead. "I could get used to this." he chuckled. "Come; let us return to our friends. No doubt there is much work to be done this day."


	6. Chapter 6 Caution to the Wind

6. Caution to the Wind

They came into the clearing giggling, looking at one another with bright eyes and huge smiles. Something moved quickly in Dimuerta's peripheral vision just then, and she turned her gaze from her lover to see what the movement was.

* * *

On the other side of the camp fire, Alistair had quickly stood up when he saw them come from between the trees across the camp. _'Look what's happened, you fool! You say the wrong thing to her, angry at what the future may hold, and now look! You drove her straight into his arms! Bloody idiot!' _he thought, furious with himself.

Alistair had sat amongst the trees for a long while after storming away from her last night. Once he had regained control of his temper he was able to think more clearly about what had just taken place. Accusing her of not caring for him had been a mistake, as he had realised. He knew she cared, and when he thought about the look on her face as she was trying to answer his question about the throne of Ferelden, he realised that she had looked upset. She hadn't wanted him to be King at all had she? She was thinking of what might be best for Ferelden, not herself. _'You fool.' _Alistair thought again. He had gone back for her to apologise later that night, but she had gone. There was a patch of grass that had been squashed to the ground, and had no frost on, unlike the rest of the grass that night; she must have sat there for a while at least. He had then rushed back to the camp, hoping that she was not too upset, but she was not there. As he scanned the area he noted that most of the others were already in their tents asleep, but Oghren and Shale were still up, sat by the fire, and both were staring at him. "Do you know where she is? Did she come back here?" he was suddenly worried that she might have been attacked before she'd made it back, the Wilds were no place for a lady to be alone, even one as powerful as she.

"Aye, she was here alright." slurred Oghren. "Cryin' she was. Ran straight over to Zev. Took 'er through the trees a while ago, haven't come back yet." at least Oghren's fragmented speech was to the point, Alistair concluded. The thought of her with Zevran left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Yes, it did look most upset about something. I didn't care enough to ask it, however. Feelings are for squishy things." Shale had agreed.

And so, feeling angry at himself, and quite hopeless now that he knew she was with Zevran, he had sat himself down on a log by the fire, and resolved to wait there until she returned.

Presently, he saw her look straight at him, and gasp.

* * *

She gave Zevran an apologetic look and squeezed his hand. "I'll just be a few moments, emma lath. Do not worry." She hadn't expected to ever see Alistair again.

Zevran nodded graciously and walked over to Oghren, Shale and Sten, who were stood together.

"You dog!" she overheard Oghren exclaim.

"You're back?" Dimuerta asked as she drew nearer to Alistair, who stood still as a statue by the fire.

"What do you mean, back?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"Last night, I thought you had left. Did you decide to come back?"

"What? I didn't leave, _Maker's breath_! I just had to calm down. I sat in the trees for a while, then I came to find you, but you were gone." he looked down, hurt, she thought.

"Alistair I... I thought you weren't coming back. I thought I was never going to see you again. If I'd have known... I'm sorry." she said, and attempted to steel herself; she would not allow herself to feel guilty this time, this was not her fault. Besides, Zevran had never spoken to her that way, and he loved her. Why shouldn't she be happy with him?

"I know now. It's OK. I just wanted to apologise to you about what I said. I realised you were thinking of Ferelden, not pushing me away. I'm an idiot, and I'm sorry." he said sincerely. "Will you let me stay?" he gave her his best puppy dog look.

"Of course! Alistair, I would never push you away, and I would never tell you to leave, OK?" Of course she wouldn't, she loved him.

"OK." and he scooped her up into his arms without warning, and swung her around. Smiling at her, he said "I am that glad to see you, dear, I thought something terrible had happened to you. I sat here all night worrying." he placed her back on her feet.

"I think you should know..." Dimuerta began. She needed to tell him about Zevran.

"Oh, I know." he waved her off. "Figured that one out by myself. I don't care though. I can't let him beat me so easily." he flashed her a smile. Clearly, he was less worried about that than she would have thought.

'_Maker save me!'_ she thought. _'Will nothing perturb a one of them?' _She was going insane. She thought she must be. She had chosen Alistair over Zevran in the first instance, and then made Alistair angry and spent the night with Zevran in the second, and yet here they were, still fighting over her. Would there ever be a point where one would give up? Of course, she could just tell one of them she did not want them around any longer, but she just couldn't. One of them would be hurt, by her, and she wouldn't be able to live with that. It was best that they fought this out amongst themselves.

"My love, I promise, I will not upset you like that again." Alistair announced. "I swear my fealty to you right now. Forever." as he said this he got on his knees at her feet and touched his head to the ground.

"Unnecessary, Alistair." she said, stepping away from the kneeling man. He could be so very childish at times. "Stop showing off. We're going to need to get moving if we're to make it to the mountain top above the Ruined Temple and still make it to Denerim on time for the Landsmeet." she hoped he'd calmed down about the Landsmeet.

"Oh, yes. Right. I'll get packing then." he said. Then he kissed her on the cheek and hurried off to prepare for another long journey.

* * *

Seeing that Alistair had left Dimuerta alone, Zevran strode over to her, ignoring the wooping noises coming from Oghren behind him. "I still have a battle on my hands, I see." he stated as he reached her, glancing over his shoulder at Alistair.

"It looks that way." Dimuerta replied apologetically.

'_Always blaming herself for things that are not in her control.' _he thought. Taking both her hands in one of his, he looked into her beautiful eyes as he brought her hands to his lips and kissed them gently. He had noticed the night before that the glowing in her eyes had sparked furiously when he was with her in their hot spring; he liked to think of it as 'theirs'; and the golden glow that was in her eyes this morning grew and intensified as he stared into them now. "It is no bother to me, my dear Warden. He shall not win." he said confidently, and winked cheekily at her.

Eyes sparkling with slivers of gold weaved throughout the vivid emerald green, Dimuerta took a step closer to Zevran, and reached up to put her arms around his neck, locking her fingers together. She leaned into him and whispered in his ear, "Thank you Zevran, for last night, and for not questioning me."

Zevran wound his arms around her tiny waist, and replied in a whisper, "Mi amora, it is I who should be thanking you. I do not need answers for why you decided to stay with me last night, I am only grateful that you did." And then he kissed her.

As much as he enjoyed making suggestive jokes and being crudely open about his physical antics, it was difficult now for him to be anything but serious with his Warden, his feelings were that strong as of late. He found himself misting over the previous night's events when Oghren had asked for the details, and, outwardly disappointed, the Dwarf had let it be known that he would get the details out of him, one way or another.

Presently, somewhere behind him, Oghren was hollering "Get stuck in there Zev, you sodding dog!" Stood beside the Dwarf, Zeus was growling, apparently upset by Oghren's use of the word 'dog'.

* * *

The group were ready to depart the Wilds by mid morning. Moving swiftly through the lands in the north of Ferelden, the group had reached Haven by the end of the third day. Being that all the inhabitants of the little village had been corrupt, and had attacked Dimuerta and her friends the first time they passed through, seeking Brother Genitivi, the place was now void of inhabitants. It was a secluded and sleepy village, and made a perfect and rather luxurious place to camp; they all found a bed to sleep in and a fireplace to warm their bones. Dimuerta resolved to stay in a little house on her own, or almost on her own, as Zeus had refused to leave her; the war hound was very protective of his mistress. She would have very much liked to stay with Zevran, but she just could not do that to Alistair. It was different when she had thought he had left, but he was definitely here to stay.

Dimuerta lay on the bed in her little house, stroking Zeus who lay spread out beside her, and watched the snow fall silently in the blackness outside the one tiny window.

There was a rapping on the door. Jumping up, Dimuerta looked around. The fire she had lit in the hearth had gone out, and the room was pitch black. She realised she must have fallen asleep at some point. There was another rap on the door, and this time, she was awake enough to open it.

"Can I come in? All this snow is making me shiver."

"Alistair? What are you doing?" she asked as she stepped back to let the sodden warrior inside.

"Couldn't sleep." He stated as he relit the fire to warm himself up.

"Well what do you want? We actually were asleep." She pointed to the bed, where Zeus still slept, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.

"I found this." He held up a rather large bottle of rum, which she hadn't noticed before. "I thought it would help keep us warm, and maybe we could talk a little?"

"Is that a good idea? The last time we were alone, talking…" there was no need to finish the thought.

"I promise not to get angry. I told you I would never upset you again." He said, and then added, "Please?"

"Oh, fine." She gave in; that puppy dog look was so unfair.

Pushing the door closed, she went to sit on the bed next to Zeus. Alistair found two dusty glasses in a cupboard and brushed them off, then proceeded to fill them both with rum. He handed one to Dimuerta and settled himself on the floor by the fire.

"So, what is it that you want to talk about?"

"Well... I was sort of wondering..." he started.

"Yes?"

"...if you were still mine? I mean, you chose me, before. Are things different now?" he looked worried again.

"I, well, I don't know. I mean, yes, things are different after what happened, but I didn't officially tell Zevran anything, so as far as he is aware, I suppose everything is as it was before." she swallowed her rum in one gulp. "I am truly surprised you still want me, really. I thought that would surely upset you." she took the bottle from Alistair's side and refilled her glass; her nerves were a little worse for ware.

"Well, yes, of course it upset me, but it was my fault. I said things I should not have said. I upset you and you thought I'd left. I can't blame you." he said sincerely. Blushing now, he continued, "I love you, Dimuerta, and I'd be a fool if I gave up now. I don't think you realise how good your heart is. I find the thought of you actually upsetting anyone quite absurd." Alistair refilled his own glass. "This stuff really does keep you warm doesn't it!" he said, "I'm boiling now!"

Alistair's last comment had freed her from her feeling of disbelief at what he had been saying. With a smirk at his naivety she answered, "That would be the fire, Alistair, and the fact that you are still wearing your armour."

"Oh! OK, um, now I feel like an idiot." he said smiling, but blushing again. "Do you mind if I take this off for a while? It's stifling!"

"As you wish. Do you need help?" she asked; the Juggernaut armour truly was massive, it looked as though it was difficult to adorn.

"Err, if you like. It would be quicker." he drained his glass again as Dimuerta got up from the bed to give him a hand.

Alistair seemed awkward as Dimuerta helped him undo the buckles and fastenings that held his armour so tightly to him. She thought some more rum would do to settle him.

Once they had successfully removed his armour, after having taken a rather long time as they both continued to fill each others glasses, Alistair was down to only a pair of long johns. "I suppose I should leave this particular item on." he slurred slightly, jolly now.

"Yes, I suppose you should!" Dimuerta laughed, rather inebriated herself.

Zeus had had enough of the noise, and got down from the bed to find a quieter spot in the back of the house.

The night continued in this way, the pair laughing and joking, until the bottle Alistair had brought contained only a trickle of rum. Dimuerta couldn't stop looking at him; maybe it was the drink, but something told her he had come for more than just talking.

* * *

Since his nerves were suitably under control from the liquor, Alistair felt ready. This was a big deal, and so important to him. He wanted everything to be perfect, but he thought things were as perfect here as they may ever be, and he didn't want to go to the Landsmeet without having at least tried.

He'd made sure that they didn't get too carried away. With the rum he'd also brought some lumps of cheese and salted pork that he'd saved and preserved, and after around half the bottle was emptied, he'd insisted that they both eat. Dimuerta did not need persuading; she was a fairly new Grey Warden after all, so her appetite was that of a large man, rather than a petite Elven woman, and she gladly ate her share.

Now that the entire bottle had been emptied, he took his chance. Gathering up his Dutch courage, he said to her, "All right, I guess I really don't know how to ask you this." how did he put this without sounding ridiculous?

"Ask me what?" she asked, her eyes on fire as she watched him. Alistair wondered whether she guessed what he was about to ask.

He searched for the right words. "Oh, how do I say this? You'd think it would be easier but every time I'm around you, I feel as if my head's about to explode. I-I can't think straight." he told her truthfully.

"That's very sweet." she replied.

"Here's the thing; being near you makes me crazy" he said emphatically, "but I can't imagine being without you. Not ever." Alistair was certain he had never felt so strongly about anything before. _'Here goes nothing' _he thought as he drew in a long breath, "I don't know how to say this another way; I want to spend the night with you. Here, in this place. Maybe this is too fast, I don't know, but... I know what I feel." he felt his muscles tense as he awaited her reply.

"This is a little sudden, Alistair." she said simply, but he could see no rejection in her eyes, and there was no reproach in her tone.

"I wanted to wait for the perfect time, perfect place... but when will it be perfect? If things were, we wouldn't even have met." he continued, "We sort of... stumbled into each other, and despite this being the least perfect time, I still found myself falling for you, in between all the fighting and everything else." as he was pouring his heart out, his love had moved from the bed and now sat with him on the floor by the fire, staring at him with her glittering, fiery eyes. Feeling more confident, he said "I really don't want to wait anymore. I've... I've never done this before. You know that. I want it to be with you... while we have the chance. In case..." he couldn't say it.

Dimuerta placed a hand on top of his, "Don't talk like that. There will always be time later." she was frowning, trying to comfort him even though she was not sure herself.

Alistair took her hand and laced their fingers together. "Will there?" he looked into her eyes, "You don't know that, I don't know that. I'd like to be able to say that I threw caution to the wind at least once."

She seemed to think for a while, but something he had said must have resonated with her, because she replied "Very well. If that's what you really want..."

"I think so." he was almost whispering now, "I hope so." and with that, he stood, with her hand still in his, and let her lead him to the bed.

His first time did not last for too long, but Alistair thought, despite all his worry and doubt, that it had been perfect. Dimuerta was even more beautiful than he had known, and his imagination had not done her justice. She was very slender, but beneath her robes was a stunning physique; she had just the right amount of definition in her muscles, beautiful and womanly. Gently he loved her, and felt more connected with his Elven lady than he had thought possible. The rum had eventually soaked in, draining their energy, and they came to lie still on the bed, Dimuerta sleeping silently, Alistair by her side, watching her. He thought she looked like a goddess laying there; lips slightly parted, eyes closed, her eyelashes so long they brushed her cheeks, and her snowy hair spread out all around her face. For Alistair, this night could not have been more perfect. _'Sweet dreams, my sleeping goddess' _he whispered, and kissed her hair before wrapping an arm around her and drifting off to sleep himself.


	7. Chapter 7 Slain

7. Slain

Dimuerta awoke much later than she had planned; it seemed to be mid-morning already and she had wanted to get to the mountain top and back before the day was out. Not having remembered straight away what had happened the night before, she got a slight shock when she looked around to see Alistair grinning at her holding two bowls of food.

"Good morning, my love!" he said excitedly, still grinning. "I brought you some breakfast, Wynne cooked it so you know it's good!" he held out a bowl of cooked eggs for her.

"Ah, thank you, Alistair." she replied awkwardly. "Why did no one wake me? We should have been on our way by now."

"Well I would have, but you just looked so peaceful." Alistair answered, blushing somewhat. "Don't worry though, I made sure everyone got ready to leave on your command."

"Oh, well, thank you again, then." she was a little speechless; she liked to be first awake, it felt like she was shirking her duties as the leader otherwise.

"Don't mention it. So, have I told you already that I love you?" he was uncharacteristically happy this morning.

"Did you hit your head?" Dimuerta thought he was going a little overboard. She knew it was his first time, but she felt he was treating her more like his new wife or a Queen than as an intimate partner.

"No, don't be silly! I just... well... last night was amazing. Thank you for saying yes. I hope it won't be the last time we share a bed roll." he blushed deeper still, and sat down at the end of the bed to eat his eggs.

Not wanting to give any kind of response to that, Dimuerta quickly swallowed down the last of her eggs and got up. Realising she was unclothed she hurriedly picked up her robes from the floor and dressed. She saw Alistair still blushing from the corner of her eye, but he did not turn his gaze elsewhere; as he would have done any other time. Grabbing her staff, she strode quickly to the door, telling Alistair "We must be moving on now, we will most likely have to make camp on the mountain top as it is." Turning to Zeus she said "Come, Zeus. Time to go." The war hound obediently followed her out.

Dimuerta strangely felt badly for Zevran. She was sure he would not be upset, but she needed to be absolutely sure.

He was expertly applying poison to his dagger and sword as Dimuerta approached. "Zevran." she said apprehensively.

Zevran turned to face her, sheathing his weapons. "You have awoken, my Warden."

"I just need to make sure I haven't hurt you, by spending the night with Alistair. He gave me a very emotional speech about how he wanted to ensure he had had that particular experience before he is felled by the Archdemon." she rolled her eyes as though it wasn't something serious.

Chuckling, Zevran replied, "Ha! Good line. Perhaps I shall make a note of it, and use it to earn a place beside you tonight?" he had that sparkle in his eye that Dimuerta was so fond of, and he winked at her. So he wasn't upset, she concluded.

"Perhaps, but I should let you know that he also brought a bottle of rum, to make it harder for me to refuse." she joked, though now she thought of it, it was likely true.

"You have not truly been intoxicated until you have taken a draught of Antivan brandy, my dear lady." he said matter-of-factly. "Also, I am willing to bet my own life that Alistair could not woo a lady in dance, or in poetry, as I surely can." The Rogue took her hand then, and twirled her around before putting his other hand on the small of her back and leaning her backwards, then allowing her to stand upright again, all in one fluid motion.

"I see. And when is it that you are intending to unleash the prose on me?" she teased.

"When you need wooing, my Warden. As it stands, you are already sufficiently wooed, as it were." he gave her a wickedly handsome smile and kissed the hand he still held before releasing it.

Blushing as she did so often now, she turned to ready her mount for a ride through the Ruined Temple to the top of the mountain.

Other than a few rogue Drakes, nothing slowed their hasty ascent to the mountain top. Dimuerta had decided to bring along all of her able companions to face the High Dragon; she was sure this would be their toughest opponent yet. With Dimuerta at the head of the riders, and Zeus running along with her horse, Zevran rode along on her left, matching her pace, and Alistair on her right, trying his best to also match her pace as he frequently turned his head toward Zevran to give him his best glare. Coming up on the rear was Morrigan, who hadn't been out with the usual party in a month or so and now looked positively eager; Sten, who was riding with Oghren at his back, who was presently cussing away at his lack of a good Dwarf-reared pony; Wynne, who looked quite disgusted by the Dwarf's bad language; and Shale lastly, who was easily able to keep up with the horses, pounding her heavy stone feet into the ground as she went.

As quickly as they had rode, it was late afternoon by the time they reached the summit. The sun hung lazily in the washed out sky, and the air was oddly still and heavy, and felt glacial in Dimuerta's lungs.

She signalled for everyone to hitch their mounts just inside the last room of the Temple so that they would be a safe distance from the Dragon, and, seeing that this was done, she moved to the golden gong that stood glowing in the dim sunlight to the right of the path that led to the Gauntlet, where Dimuerta had previously found the holy Andraste's Ashes that had saved Arl Eamon's life.

Standing now directly in front of the gong, Dimuerta looked back over her shoulder at her companions and called, "Is everyone ready?"

A moments' silence passed, and then there was a rough hand on her shoulder, "We are ready, my Warden. Let us see the beast. I have a bet on with Oghren that I will deal the deadly strike." Zevran winked at her, his topaz eyes sparkling as she would swear they had been since their night together.

"That so?"

"Aye, and he'll not be winnin' y'hear" Oghren grunted. "Takes more than stealth to slay a Dragon. Gotta' have brute force. That'll be me winnin' the gold, Zev ol' fella."

"We shall see, my bearded friend. We shall see." Zevran teased the Dwarf, his hand still on Dimuerta's shoulder.

"OK. I will summon the Dragon then." Dimuerta announced to her eight companions, and then quickly, placing a hand over Zevran's on her shoulder and squeezing it, she added "Be careful, all of you. Please." she emphasized, looking right into Zevran's eyes, pleading.

As Zevran stepped back, Dimuerta wielded her staff, and, in a defensive stance, banged the gong with it.

It took around a minute. The group stood waiting, all holding a defensive position, straining to see a movement in the sky, to hear a noise on the breeze. Zevran had stayed close to Dimuerta, his back to hers, sword and dagger at the ready. Alistair too, had moved noticeably closer to Dimuerta, keeping his shield raised. She didn't really need protecting, but they both seemed unaware that this was what they were doing; it was instinctive. Presently, there was a deafening shriek, and the High Dragon appeared in front of them, its expansive wings heaving to keep its massive body hovering above the ground.

The warriors moved forwards while the mages fell back, Wynne further back than the other two to stay out of the Dragon's line of fire and keep her focus on healing. Dimuerta cast a protective Heroic Defence spell over Wynne to keep her safe. Alistair stayed on the side of the Dragon closest to Dimuerta, but pushed forward to join the other warriors. Zevran remained by Dimuerta's side, studying the Dragon's movements.

At once the monstrous Dragon dropped to the ground where it had been hovering, making the whole mountain shudder and momentarily putting Oghren off balance as he swung his axe over his head. The beast's beady eyes shone a crimson red as they scanned its new foes. It straightened its scaly back, swinging the tip of its tail to and fro like an angry cat, and let out another blood curdling cry as it began its attack.

Immediately Dimuerta cast her Curse of Mortality and then her Hand of Blood spell in a flurry. As there were so many warriors at the Dragon's feet, she could cast a lot of spells without attracting the beast's attention. To her right, Morrigan did the same, concentration evident on her face. To Dimuerta's left, Zevran stealthed, disappearing from view and reappearing moments later at the Dragon's side, thrusting his dagger in above its knee. Another deafening shriek ripped from the creature's bared teeth and it swung it's tail out and around in front of it, knocking all but the dexterous Zevran and Zeus off of their feet. Before the warriors could get to their feet Wynne was casting her Cleansing Aura spell to heal everyone around her.

With renewed energy Dimuerta dodged an angry flame attack and sent a Shock spell hurtling towards the Dragon, making it cease its attack for half a second. This gave the warriors a small window of opportunity, and, lead by Alistair, they all landed one heavy blow on the Dragon at exactly the same time, which knocked it off balance, and it crashed to the ground. Now shrieking in pain and shock, the Dragon writhed on its back as it tried to right itself. Turning to Morrigan, Dimuerta nodded a wordless command and Morrigan activated a powerful Paralyze spell over the Dragon. It would not hold for long, but it would be long enough. Zevran nimbly leapt to the Dragon's great belly, and in one fluid motion, sunk both his sword and dagger into the beast's throat and ran them across until they broke free of the scaly flesh above its shoulder. The shrieking was rapidly replaced by gargling in this split second, and after a minute or two, the writhing stopped, and so did the gargling.

"The beast is slain." Zevran announced with a smirk as he jumped agilely to the ground.


End file.
